It's pitch black in the bedroom, thick blankets plastered to the walls obscure the harsh day waiting outside. She opens up the room to see a half naked man seizing on the bed, and walks towards him apprehensively. He turns his head and coughs, gagging and twitching. She could tell he was very sick, and very drunk. He puts a small bottle to his lips, his jittery hands barely able to twist the lid off, and begins to drink. He throws the plastic bottle violently towards her, as she dodges it at the last second. He winces in pain from the burning feeling inside, and she still comes closer looking absolutely disgusted at the display. Never has she seen such an exhibition of willful atrocity, and because of her own damaged psyche she crawls on top of his withering body. He is drenched in cold sweat, but she clings to him embracing him. He whispers through labored breathing into her ear,"You know you're my angel right?". She says nothing then kisses him on the forehead, and he welcomes her company. He holds onto her tight, as the last few breaths leave the husk that has became his body. She whimpers softly, her tears staining his still cold chest.
